


Symbiotic

by TimelessTragedy



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Minor Violence, Reaper76 Reverse Bang, Symbiote!Reaper
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-15
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2019-02-02 19:13:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12732573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimelessTragedy/pseuds/TimelessTragedy
Summary: “Gabriel,” Jack rasps above him, voice desperate and tight. “Hold on.”I’m trying, he wants to whisper, I’m trying but it hurts.





	Symbiotic

**Author's Note:**

> A very big thank you to [Ichicome](http://ichicome.tumblr.com/) for all their hard work, I got very lucky to have a partner like them for the Reaper76 Reverse Bang. 
> 
> Ichicome, it was a pleasure to work with you on this project. Thank you for such a great experience.

The mattress shifts and there’s a sigh, a drawn-out sound of someone trying to get comfortable, and in the silence that follows he waits until he’s sure his companion is still asleep before he stands. His knees threaten to buckle beneath him and he grips the end of the bed as he passes it to keep his balance.

There’s nowhere to really go, the room is small and cramped with the rickety bed tucked in the corner and a side table that looks ready to buckle under the weight of their weaponry piled high on it. He takes a step away, the carpet rough on his bare feet, and he’s already out of room. It was the best they could do on the budget they had so he couldn’t really complain. Moving usually helped with the pain but there’s so little room that there isn’t much he can do without waking Jack.

He goes to the window, moving aside a threadbare curtain to peer outside at the dark parking lot with its lamp post that had long since given up trying, finding their beat-up car on the outskirts of the cracked pavement. It was a miracle no one had stolen it, for as old as it looked it was still one of the best ones there. A few look like they’ll fall apart at a moment’s notice and he half wonders how they even still run.

Cold seeps in through the glass and he presses his hand to it, seeking a relief from the heat radiating from him. It’s a weak distraction from the pain that’s already building and he feels his hands begin to shake. Bile rises in his throat and his lips curl up, exposing long rows of sharp teeth that stretch too far up his cheek.

He has to resist the urge to put his fist through the window. They don’t have the money to cover damage like that. So he forces down the anger, and the bitterness that wells in his chest, the desire to spill blood and lash out for revenge because he _never asked_ to become this… _thing._

A crack draws his attention and he looks down to where his other hand had been curled around the edge of the window sill. Bits of plaster drift out between his fingers and fall, and when he pulls his hand back he takes a chunk of the wall with him. It cools his temper and he brushes the mess off on his pant leg just as the bed behind creaks and he stills.

“Gabe?”

He half turns, glancing over his shoulder at the man on the bed who has propped himself up on an elbow.

“You can go back to sleep, Jack, it’s still late.”

Jack grunts and flings off the blankets, padding over to him. He almost winces when Jack touches him, his hands are freezing against Gabriel’s bare arm, the metal stark against the dark skin it rests on, but he forces himself to stay still.

 _I’m fine¸_ he wants to say, _it’s nothing, you can sleep_.

Instead he sighs, smoke curling out from between his lips in a lazy stream, running a hand over his face and murmurs, “Why me?”

Jack molds himself easily to the shape of his back, giving a low hum of thought as he brings his arms around Gabriel’s broad waist. His cheek rests against Gabriel’s back and he can feel the plates that make up his jaw shift when Jack opens his mouth next.

“You were unlucky.”

It surprises him enough to make him laugh and he feels Jack’s smile as the grip around his waist tightens. He leans back into it, eyes drifting closed. The rest of Jack, where the metal ends and flesh begins, is a comforting sort of heat, even as his own body threatens to burn itself to ashes. Where Jack’s arms touch skin, Gabriel’s shirt keeps riding up a little more with every move they make, it’s cold enough to make goosebumps rise, and it’s the sort of anchor he’d been sorely without before Jack had found him again.

Jack, the man just as broken as he is, who’s willing to take the time to try to fix the broken shell of what barely passes as human while trying to cope with his own radically changed body. Dear Jack, the man willing to risk it all, who tries to reach what little of his old lover remains in the twisted form he’s become, even while chasing away his own demons.

He didn’t deserve Jack.

“You need to sleep,” he says, stepping out of his love’s arms, ignoring the lines that develop between Jack’s brows and the way the man’s mouth slopes down. Instead he focuses on gently herding him back toward the lumpy mattress and scratchy sheets and not tripping over his own clumsy feet.

Jack doesn’t fight him and slides under the covers, never taking his eyes of him even as Gabriel climbs in beside him and buries his face in Jack’s shoulder to avoid his gaze.

There are too many words that hang in the air between them, too many questions without answers and threats that always seem much too close, so they settle for saying none until Jack’s breathing is deep and even and Gabriel lies still and waits for sleep to take him.

When it finally does, it’s not kind. He dreams of a rain storm, with droplets that lash at them like hail. They’re nearly blind in the dark as they work toward their extraction point. Boots slip in deepening mud and a few fall and try to stagger back to their feet. They’re rendered mute in the face of the gales that scream all around them, howling in rage as they feebly try to tell each other where they are.

 _There’s a bunker,_ one yells, _up ahead!_

It rallies them and they surge forward, gripping weapons like lifelines and trying keep track of their allies. It’s getting harder to see, the gaps between sentences they can catch growing longer, and it becomes harder to remember they’re a team.

He’s last to the bunker. He finds the door flung open and he rushes in blindly to escape the storm. His knees scream with overuse and his skin aches from the battering of the rain, and it takes too long for his eyes to adjust to the bright sterile light.

They all beat him there he realizes, as he takes in the blood-soaked tiles and brain splattered walls. He recognizes his men even though the figures lining the hall, mud soaked and pale faced, are hollow and empty and ruined.

He steps past them, careful to avoid crushing fingers and toes, mixing blood and mud on his boots with every step, searching the faces of the dead. Their names are on his lips and he chokes on them as he wanders into the bunker, their tomb, and he prays for mercy, that some kind soul will let him stay with them.

But no one does, and the faces become too real, too fresh, and he comes to distantly realize that it can’t be real, these people are alive, these people he saw just a few days ago on his tablet and they’d chatted, that – is that one Jack?

Gabriel wakes up sweating, with the sheets plastered to his hot skin, and even Jack’s heat makes him feel like he’ll combust.

There’s bile in his throat that he can’t swallow down, and every nerve in his decaying body is alight with pain. It takes all his strength not to scream as a fresh wash of agony crashes down over him and locks his muscles into place.

He can’t breathe and his lungs scream for air.

Cold burns its way across his cheeks and it takes him too long to bring his swimming vision into focus, and when he can Jack’s face is fractured and crystalline, and he can’t pull the image together well enough to make out what expression the other man’s wearing.

He can’t form the words to tell Jack that his touch is hurting him and that he needs to stop, or to tell Jack to never move his hands because at least that pain means someone’s there.

A tear leaves a hot streak down his face before it’s wiped away.

“Gabriel,” Jack rasps above him, voice desperate and tight. “Hold on.”

 _I’m trying_ , he wants to whisper _, I’m trying but it hurts_.

He manages a noise, barely more than a moan, but it seems to soothe Jack and the touch on his cheeks grows more tender, featherlight.

“I’ll call Winston,” Jack says, and he starts to retract his hands, but something in Gabriel’s face must give away the fact that Jack leaving will hurt more than the pain he’s already in, so he stays and replaces his hands ever so gently. “Gabe…”

He listens for the whispers, the ever-present voices that have haunted him since he became the Reaper, the ones that linger just at the back of his mind, and hopes for once that they’ll continue, because he’s scared if they stop he’ll die. He knows Reaper’s what’s keeping him alive, and he doesn’t want to die in Jack’s arms, not like this.

And to his relief they’re there, telling him to _feed, feed, feed, feed…_

And he feels it try to tempt him into lashing out, _Jack’s right there, within reach, he won’t fight, we can_

_feed, feed, feed, feed…_

He grits his teeth, catching his tongue between them, and screams to drown them out.

He won’t hurt Jack, he can’t hurt Jack, not after all they’ve been through.

Hands grip his shoulders and his name is shouted so loudly it rattles through his skull with enough force to make him feel nauseous. He can see again, finding Jack’s face covered with worry and it nearly makes him laugh.

Jack shouldn’t be worried for Gabriel but for himself.

“ _Gabriel_ ,” Jack says, prosthetic fingers curling into his shoulders and making them ache anew. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

He’s aware, suddenly, that Reaper’s stirred. That his failing body’s attempts to protect itself have backfired. His face is a mess of rows of mouths with sharp, broken teeth and eyes spread across it that blink out of unison, broken open by Reaper’s attempts to keep him alive in spite of his body’s efforts to die.

Without realizing it, he’d been reaching for Jack’s chest, to follow Reaper’s orders and feed,  and he drops his hand and it falls limp at his side.

His head pounds. His throat is dry and his lungs ache.

But at the very least, his words are unhindered and manages to croak out, “Help.”

It’s the last thing he remembers from the hotel besides a sudden sharp prick in the side of his neck.

* * *

 

The world comes back to him in pieces. He’s half lying down, half propped up, his legs hanging over the edge of whatever he’s on. The space around him shakes and he can hear the hum of a motor. It’s comfortably cool where the air can reach his skin, but he’s dressed in most of his gear so there isn’t much exposed.

There’s a headache pulsing behind his eyes. He turns his head slowly, spotting Jack in the driver’s seat of their beat-up vehicle. Jack’s tapping the steering wheel as he drives, a tell of his irritation.

“Jack?”

The man glances over his shoulder and part of the tension that rests in his shoulders seems to melt away.

“You’re awake.”

“Where are we?” he asks, pushing himself up with an elbow. The vehicle shakes and rattles his bones and he winces, laying back down.

“Enroute to rejoin Ana. She was with me before I found you.”

That had been months ago, on a Talon mission that had gone sour. He remembered it clearly.

“Why haven’t we gone earlier?” he grunts out, closing his eyes against the light that pours in through the windows. Jack doesn’t seem to notice or care how bright it is, for he doesn’t offer to make the vehicle darker.

“We weren’t sure if you were ready. You’re not exactly… stable.”

“So we stayed at a hotel that looked like it was pulled from a horror movie instead?” he asks flatly, lifting a hand to run it over his face. He smiles into his palm when Jack barks out a laugh.

“They didn’t ask any questions,” is the reply, tone bordering on playful. “And so long as we kept paying for the room they left us alone. Besides, it was better than us trying to sleep in the car.”

He hums and they lapse into silence for a while before Jack turns on the radio. They listen to news reports of the latest attack on the general population, likely led by Talon,  and it rapidly sours their thoughts and moods.

He turns to sit up properly and starts flexing his fingers that still feel a little numb. His muscles are stiff and he wants to move so he sighs heavily until Jack glances at him in the mirror.

“We’re almost there.” Jack sounds exasperated so he smiles briefly before he lets his own gaze wander toward the window.

There’s nothing interesting to see between dilapidated buildings and hunks of metal that stick out of cracked earth like weeds. The road stands empty beyond them, the painted lines showing their age. He wonders briefly if he should recognize this place from one of the countless battles he fought in, or if it’s just another tragedy that had been swallowed up during the Omnic Crisis.

They hit another rough patch and their car shudders viciously, and he hears the wheel creak under Jack’s grip.

He debates it for all of a moment before he moves to the front seat and settles in, ignoring the way it makes Jack scowl.

“You should be resting. I doubt you got much sleep after that nightmare.”

“I’m fine,” he assures, looking for the lever that tips his seat back. It creaks when it moves, making that scowl on Jack’s face deepen further.

“We don’t know what your body can handle yet, not until we get you to Winston. You need to be more careful now that-“

“I don’t have my babysitters?” he interrupts coldly.

Jack stops, grip tightening once more on the wheel. His blue eyes stay locked on the road even as Gabriel glares at him.

“That’s not what I meant,” Jack finally says through his teeth. “I just… don’t want to lose you.”

“I’m hard to kill.”

The other man grunts and reaches over to fiddle with the radio. He changes it to a station playing some new song that’s just come out that Gabriel doesn’t care for, it’s begun to all sound like noise to him these days anyway, and he can feel the thump of the bass in his chest and it makes it a little hard to breathe.

But he keeps his mouth shut, regret harsh and churning in his gut, tapping his nails on his leg in time to the music to keep his thoughts centered.

The ache hasn’t left his bones.

They drive for long enough that Gabriel dozes off, head tilted back with his hood drawn to keep the sun off his face. When he wakes again, it’s because the car glides off the semi even surface of the road and onto a gravel path so rough that it sends his head into the window with enough force that he bites his tongue.

“We’re here,” Jack says, parking the car in a patch of flattened grass and climbs out while Gabriel recovers.

By the time he finally crawls out of the vehicle Jack’s made the short walk to a beat up looking shack at the end of a path that’s being consumed by the out of control weeds that surround it.

All around them are the sounds of life, birds and bugs and a breeze whistling through grass. The steps creak loudly beneath their weight. Jack knocks, and they wait in stony silence until the opens a crack.

“Ana,” Jack grunts, “I brought him with me.”

And then the door flings open and Ana rushes out to get a better look at Gabriel, reaching up to grip his shoulders as if to reassure herself that he’s _really there_.

It feels like his heart is wedged in his throat, because he’s not even sure if he is.

She herds them inside and he takes a seat on an overturned crate across from where Jack settles, and Ana seems to measure the space between them with a frown. He digs his nails into his legs.

“Well?” she asks when they’ve been quiet for too long. “What’s the plan?”

“I think he’s stable enough now to be moved,” Jack responds, folding his hands in his lap. “Winston’s been in contact and says they’re ready for our arrival.”

“Who’s there?” he puts in, making the other two turn to him. He frowns. “How many are there?”

“Winston, Lena, Genji and a friend of his, there’s a good number of us now,” Jack answers. He’s grown wary, and for good reason as Gabriel rises, backing towards the door.

“I can’t go there.”

Jack and Ana are rising now, very slowly moving toward him.

Fear rises in his chest, making it harder to breathe as his lungs constrict, and Reaper comes to life at the edge of his mind. He wants to run, but is afraid that if he does he’ll never look back.

“What’s wrong?” Ana asks softly, studying his face. She keeps her hands where he can see them, and he eyes the gun at her side he knows is loaded with tranquilizers.

“This was a bad idea…” he whispers, feeling behind him for the door. He needs to escape, he needs out he needs to

_feed, feed, feed, feed…_

His hand finds the door and he starts pulling it open just as Jack moves, lunging toward him. Instincts rush to him and he lets Reaper take over, feeling his body break down into a cloud of smoke that Jack crashes through. The man hits the door and Gabriel rushes away unharmed, forming again on the other side of the room, already searching for another escape. He finds a window, open just a crack, and starts toward it, aware of Jack trying to get back to his feet, metal boots scraping over decaying wood.

Fingers wrap around his wrist and he turns, lashing out without thinking, and his fist connects with Ana’s face with a crack.

Everything within him freezes in horror.

He watches her fall, hands flying to her nose, and he can see the red already staining her face more clearly than anything else. All he can see is the pain he caused, etched onto her face and coating her skin in a smear of red.

His stomach claws its way up his throat.

“Gabriel,” Jack growls out in warning, and red eyes snap to blue as the soldier pushes himself up and toward the woman, their friend, that Gabriel had hurt.

“I didn’t mean…”

“Come back with us,” Ana whispers, cutting off Jack’s next reply. “Gabriel let us help you, let Winston see you.”

He swallows and finds it’s not enough to force his guilt back down. He nods mutely, drained. Maybe Winston could fix it, could do what Talon and all its indispensable resources and scientists and tools couldn’t. Maybe he could kill the Reaper.

Something tells him that’s not possible, and hope seems so far away.

* * *

 

They leave that night, piling into the car and setting out with Ana’s supplies tucked in the trunk. Gabriel sits in the back, huddled in the corner with his cheek against the glass. He feels like a child that’s just been scolded as the adults talk around him.

Ana keeps meeting his eyes in the rearview mirror until he turns his gaze out toward the fields they’re driving through.

It’s dark, but he doesn’t care. He feels better in the shadows these days anyway.

“I found him outside an abandoned Overwatch base,” Jack’s saying, His voice is far-away and distracted. Metal fingers tap a rhythm against the steering wheel. There’s no music this time. “He was alone, with no sign of Talon. As far as I know we haven’t been followed.”

Ana hums, and he makes the mistake of glancing back toward the mirror only to lock eyes with her. It makes his stomach twist. She has a look in her eye that threatens to see deep into your soul. Or in his case what little he has left.

He looks down at his lap instead as they pass another vehicle that floods theirs with light. The skin of his hands looks gray and frayed in places, reminding him that it’s been too long since he last fed. He frowns and he looks back out the window.

There’s nothing outside besides rows of corn.

“Gabriel,” she calls, soft and hesitant. He looks up, meets that piercing gaze. “Why did you go with Jack?”

His heart skips a beat. “Why?”

“It’s important.”

“I… chose to. It’s Jack.”

“Last time we saw you… you and Jack were fighting,” she reminds, poking sticks at a sensitive subject that has him feeling raw already.

His nails bite into his palms. “I know.”

“What has Talon told you, if anything?”

He stops, trying to think, as bile creeps up his throat. He’s scared as thoughts start to bleed in unwanted, as if Ana’s made him aware of something that’s always been there but had gone unnoticed, and panic sends him scrambling out of the moving car, Reaper being the only reason he doesn’t tear himself apart as he lands on the ground and he hears the car screech to a halt ahead of him.

He gags and retches, entire form shuddering until a set of hands come to rest on his back gently.

He stays there, on his hands and knees, spit dripping from his lips and smoke oozing off him, until his heart-rate settles and he’s not seeing doubles. The touch on his back is soothing and he leans back into it.

“Are you alright now?” Jack’s voice is close to his ear and he can feel his breath on his neck. He leans toward it, aching for comfort. It had been so long…

“I’m… trying,” he whispers brokenly. “I can’t be near people, Jack, I’ll…’

Jack hushes him gently, helping him back up onto his feet and guiding him back to the car and coaxing him inside. He sits beside him, keeping him against his chest.

“We’ll figure something out,” Jack tells him, rubbing circles into Gabriel’s back gently.

“I’ve already hurt Ana.”

“My nose will heal,” she says, twisted in her seat to look at him. Her eyes are soft. “The pain of losing you again, however… would be a wound that would never heal. Come back with us, and we’ll do what we can to keep you from hurting anyone else. We want to help fix what’s happened to you.”

He’s tired, drained, so he nods and doesn’t fight.

Ana slides over into the driver’s seat and takes over driving while Jack stays in the back with him, comforting and warm with a hand on his back.

He manages to doze off to the sound of Jack’s heartbeat.

* * *

 

He stirs when he feels Jack pull away carefully, and he opens his eyes to a world too bright for the headache that refuses to budge. There’s a touch on his cheek, gentle and tender, before his hood is pulled up for him gently and he can manage to keep his eyes open now.

The look on Jack’s face is warm and sad before the man leans forward to catch his lips in a sweet kiss that Gabriel can’t get enough of.

“Lena’s on her way,” Jack says, drawing back just enough to catch Gabriel’s gaze. “We’ll be in Gibraltar in a matter of hours.”

“Gibraltar… I led an attack on Winston there for Talon,” he hums, reaching up unsteadily to cup Jack’s cheek. A tension in his chest eases when it’s welcomed and pressed into.

“I doubt he’ll hold it against you,” Ana teases, standing just behind Jack outside and stretching her back from the long ride. She smiles at him over her shoulder, setting her hands on her hips. “When they contacted us last they did ask how you were.”

“Did you tell them the truth?”

Her gaze softens. “We told them you were resting. Which if you ask me is very much the truth.”

Jack helps him out of the car, keeping him upright as his knees threaten to buckle beneath him, an arm around his waist. He’s coaxed forward, boots scraping over uneven concrete.

There’s nothing around but them on an open stretch of land and a few small buildings that dot the tarmac. They’re in the middle of what looks like a landing pad being overtaken by nature, with sprouts of grass and flowers poking up between the cracks.

It’s serene with nothing but the sounds of wildlife around them.

Jack keeps him moving, letting cramped muscles relax and tension bleed away. He leans in, feeling more relaxed than he has in years, letting Jack guide him. He barely notices when they stop walking and start practically drifting about in lazy circles, Jack’s hands warm on his hips – _when had they moved there? –_ and he’s resting against Jack’s chest instead of walking beside him, and when he finally realizes they’re dancing he’s calm and almost… _happy._

Something ugly rears at the back of his mind, reminding him of what he is, what he carries, what he’s done, and he tries to squash it to simply enjoy being in Jack’s arms.

He reaches up, drawing the other man into a brief kiss. It earns him a soft noise that stirs warmth in his belly and he strokes along Jack’s metal jaw. Blue eyes pinch faintly with a furrow that concerns him even if it’s only there for a moment.

“I’ve missed you,” he hears himself say. It makes Jack smile though, and they keep dancing to the songs of birds.

* * *

 

The wind picks up when Lena arrives, silencing the creatures around them with the roar of the transport’s engines. They draw back out of the way to clear room for her to land, and the moment she does the door flies open and she’s bounding out in a flash of blue.

She’s all loud laughs and a flurry of movement, telling them all about the agents who have returned as she ushers them inside. He’s all so much that he feels like his chest is caught in a vise.

Jack doesn’t leave his side as they settle in for the ride back to the Watchpoint. They sit with their legs flush and hands twined, heads bowed as Ana chats with Lena to keep her distracted.

The ride feels longer than it is, and by the time they touch down he’s anxious and fidgety, and he feels like Reaper will lose its patience. Even having Jack at his side does little to comfort him and as soon as they’re on the ground he’s rushing away in a cloud of smoke onto the tarmac.

Jack follows him, holding him when he reforms into a shaky mess out of sight of the others.

“Are you going to be alright?” Jack asks, rubbing circles into his back gently. “You’re going to have to get used to being near people, especially if more start answering the recall.”

“I know,” he says, and he admits to himself that the idea of being surrounded by such large numbers makes him nervous. He doesn’t want to think about what may happen if Reaper decides it needs to feed when he’s near so many people he can’t risk harming.

Jack brings their foreheads together, and his breath is warm on Gabriel’s cold skin.

“We won’t let you hurt anyone,” is the soft promise that brings a faint smile to his lips.

“I trust you.”

“Are you ready to see him, then?”

He nods slightly after a moment of hesitation and twines their fingers again. He lets Jack guide him back out to the others.

They’re embraced by eager friends with cries of ‘It’s so good to see you!’ and ‘It’s been too long!’ and there are tears and tales shared as they head into the old watchpoint. It’s surreal to be back, he finds, in a place he never expected to return to with people he never expected to see again.

The memory of Talon’s attack flashes to the forefront of his mind when he sees the damage they’d inflicted, the shattered glass and broken equipment not yet repaired, and he feels a twinge of regret. He’d been part of the attack because he had firsthand knowledge of the watchpoint and its defenses, and when he’d taken part it had been nothing but a mission that had to be done. Now, however, he found himself lamenting the fact he’d been involved at all. This is Winston’s home, and soon his as well.

The guilt only gets stronger when Winston pokes his head over the railing and raises one massive hand to wave before jumping down to save them the walk. He tries not to flinch, and feels Jack give his hand a squeeze to comfort him.

“Welcome back to Gibraltar,” Winston says warmly, offering them a smile. “It’s good to see you.”

He feels naked without the mask but manages a weak smile as the scientist guides them up to the second floor. It’s easier to breathe when he’s not surrounded by people and he moves to lean against the wall, rubbing a hand over his face.

Jack stays close as Winston moves to the desk and settles into his seat facing them, yellow eyes soft.

“Jack told me a little bit about what you’ve gone through and what we know. I’m ready to start researching something to help you whenever you are.”

He glances at Jack, who nods and smiles, and he swallows down his nerves.

He has Jack on his side, everything would be fine.

“I’m ready. Let’s figure this out.”

 


End file.
